


Of Insecurities and Trending Hashtags

by demiguise



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys In Love, But Mostly Comfort, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting Together, HAIKYUU 402, Here There Be Spoilers, Iwaizumi is the mvp, M/M, Mattsun’s job, Oikawa’s insecurities, Short & Sweet, Timeskip, everyone has a crush on Iwachan, haikyuu spoilers, jobless Makki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demiguise/pseuds/demiguise
Summary: [SPOILERS - CANNOT EMPHASIZE THIS ENOUGH]Mattsun:Which one do you prefer? I’ll give you a friend discount.The message is followed by an image of two coffins.Oikawa blinks, one hundred percent confused. He quickly texts back with “What the hell, Mattsun?? Are you cursing me or something?!”Mattsun:I’m just getting a headstart for when Iwaizumi kills you.——Oikawa reunites with the Seijoh gang before the big match. Memories resurface. Feelings flare. Oikawa fears he is too late.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 54
Kudos: 393
Collections: Haikyuu!!





	Of Insecurities and Trending Hashtags

**Author's Note:**

> The last Haikyuu chapter brought me back from the void. This is my gift to you all.
> 
> In case it wasn’t clear before— SPOILERS. EVERYWHERE.

The restaurant is packed and noisy.

People are huddled together in small corners, servers are politely attempting to make their way through the crowd without spilling drinks and entire meals.

There is a cacophony of sounds. For a second, Oikawa forgets he is in Japan. 

Japanese mixes with English, with Spanish, with Italian, Portuguese.

Ah, the epicenter of the Olympics. The only downfall of having chosen a restaurant close to the Olympic Village.

However, he finds himself blending in with this boisterous ecosystem. After years of living abroad he is no longer a stranger to a blend of languages and cultures. But tonight he is here not to disappear in the crowd, but to pinpoint three very specific individuals.

Spiky hair and a blurred scowl partially hidden by a group of people chatting next to the bar is a dead giveaway.

“IWAAAAACHAN!” Oikawa’s cheeks burn from grinning so widely.

He’d like to imagine the music stops, passerbys suspended with their drinks halfway to their mouth, but Oikawa learned a long time ago that the world doesn’t pause for anyone.

Iwaizumi hears him, though, and there is warmth that blooms in Oikawa’s chest at that realization.

There is a glimpse of widened eyes, Iwaizumi rises from the partially obscured booth, and immediately narrows his eyes.

It’d be intimidating if he weren’t fighting his own grin. 

Oikawa reaches him in four quick, elegant strides.

“Shut up, you. I thought you wanted to keep a low profile tonight!” Is Iwaizumi’s greeting.

Oikawa waves his hand in the air, “That’s easier for me, Iwachan, I’m practically a nobody here. Not like the legendary Hajime of Japan. Athletic trainer.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he gives away his embarrassment by bringing a hand to massage the back of his neck, “Whatever. I don’t need all of Japan hearing this ‘Iwachan’ nonsense.”

Oikawa is about to make some sort of witty comeback when there’s a cough from the booth.

“You know, I’m used to being ignored, being mostly surrounded by dead people and all, but this feels a little rude.”

“I agree, after taking time out from our very busy lives to come and see you.”

Oikawa places both hands on his hips and turns to face the sources of this nagging.

“You don’t even have a job, Makki, what busy life?”

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi softly snort.

“Wow, we’re starting with that, okay, I see.” Is Hanamaki’s response as he grasps his glass and takes a long gulp of beer. Matsukawa snickers but gently pats Hanamaki’s back.

“Come on, liven up— wow, I don’t get to say that often in my line of work— I’m sure there’s a job for you out there!”

Hanamaki narrows his eyes, “Easy for you to say, dying is always in business.”

Oikawa scoots inside the booth, quickly followed by Iwaizumi, who gently presses his shoulder against him. Oikawa hates to acknowledge he doesn’t scoot all the way against the wall, liking this proximity.

Oikawa laughs, it’s loud and carefree, “Can we please change the topic to something less morbid? Like me, for example, your friend who just traveled across the world to be here?”

They all groan.

Oikawa smiles, he is home. 

———————-

“Did you check in already?” Iwaizumi has a pleasant, well-fed smile on his face and he walks side by side Oikawa down a busy street. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had waved their goodbyes at the restaurant (“SOME of us have to go back to our homes because SOME PEOPLE can’t seem to get Olympic tickets for their friends.” Hanamaki endearingly, and a little drunkenly, says as he hugs both Iwaizumi and Oikawa, Matsukawa quickly snapping a picture of all four.) 

Multiple stalls are selling jerseys, flags, pompoms, and many more souvenirs that remind them both of why exactly they’re able to spend time together.

They’re here to play against each other. Oikawa swears he feels his body vibrating in excitement at that.

“Yeah. Coach took all of us there first. Besides, I wanted to shower and change, couldn’t be greeting you with smelly airplane scent, Iwachan.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, taking out his phone to quickly check something. “All these years and you can’t drop that dumb nickname, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa laughs, because it’s been far too many months since he’s heard Iwaizumi’s less than affectionate nickname for him in person. “Keep up with that, Iwachan, and I miiight just let this endearing nickname slip in my post match interviews.”

“Oh, they interview the losers now, too?” Is Iwaizumi’s immediate reply, eyes still not leaving his phone. 

“Ha. Ha.” Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him, a flashback to high school days.

Iwaizumi doesn’t notice because he still is looking at his phone. 

Oikawa pretends he doesn’t feel a twinge of annoyance in his chest. “Is the great Hajime of Japan needed somewhere else? What’s so important?” He prods at Iwaizumi’s arm, who immediately looks up.

“Oh, nothing, sorry, just a quick reply to Bo.” He immediately puts his phone away.

Oikawa slows down his pace without noticing, “Bo?”

Iwaizumi continues walking, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

 _Oh, so everyone gets a nickname now_ , a slightly annoyed voice invades Oikawa’s mind.

“Right! Bo-kun! Wow, you’re so popular, Iwachan.” 

Iwaizumi snorts, “Hardly, he’s asking if eating barbecue before a game is going to affect his spikes. Must be out with Akaashi. It’s like I’m a glorified mom for this whole team, I swear.” But there’s not a single trace of annoyance in his words.

_Are you my mom, Iwachan?_

Oh, how mad he’d gotten at being called mom before.

He’s just close with his team. _That’s great, it’s the way it’s supposed to be, what did you expect?_ Oikawa is making his best to shut negative thoughts up.

Iwaizumi, however, has noticed his silence. He turns to face him,

“Are you tired? I know you wanted to hang out back in the village but we don’t have to if you’d rather go to bed.”

“NO! I’m not tired, silly Iwachan. Let’s go!” He stiffly picks up his pace, leaving a slightly confused Iwaizumi behind.

 _Shut up_ , Oikawa fiercely thinks, _don’t ruin tonight._

Don’t ruin the few moments you have with him.

———

Oikawa knows he shouldn’t.

Oikawa knows Iwachan will be mad if he finds out.

 _If_ , resonates the voice he’s been trying to quiet all night.

They had reached Argentina’s wing in the athletes village, and decided to lounge in the surprisingly empty common room. Oikawa had excitedly rushed to his room to bring back all the souvenirs he’d bought(“Alfajores, Iwachan! They’re heaven on earth….don’t tell ANYONE I’ve said this but they might be better than milkbread!”).

At some point, between the sweets and the memories and the laughter and the warmth, Iwaizumi had gotten up to use the restroom, leaving his phone on the coffee table currently covered in empty candy wrappers. 

A phone that has been nonstop lighting up with messages since he left.

I mean, he left it face up, it’s not like he can blame Oikawa for looking.

Doing a quick crane of his neck to make sure Iwaizumi is not on his way back, Oikawa quickly leans forward to peer down at the phone the moment it lights up again.

It’s a group chat. With the rest of Iwaizumi’s team, of course. That’s normal. That’s perfectly —

**BEST MIYA:**

Iwa-Iwa! When are you coming back?Are we stretching tonight?

**BO:**

He said he’d meet us tomorrow morning for early training, instead.

**BEST MIYA:**

...who kidnapped Bokun?

 **BO** :

This is Akaashi, sorry. 

**SHO-KUN:**

AHH, it’s so weird to see Bokuto type so —— instead of !!!!! Hope you’re having fun, Iwai-san! Bakeyama says hi!!

 **BO** :

SRY I WAS beating a gacha game for Keiji!! Gonna win the whole machine!!!

**SHO-KUN:**

YEEESS!!

 **BO** :

ANYWAY GTG SEE YOU TOMORROW. ENJOY YOUR NIGHT OUT ZUMI!! 

**Sakusa** :

Stop using this group chat for non essential conversations.

**BEST MIYA:**

OMI-OMI! WYA?

-Sakusa has left the chat-

 **Ushijima** :

Again? Everyone remember to have a good, proper rest to restore energy. Enjoy your night, Hajime.

  
  


Oikawa instinctively clutches the phone in his hand. 

Hajime.

Iwa-Iwa

Zumi?! How does Iwachan even let that one slide??

 _Hajime_.

He feels an old pang of something he wishes he didn’t feel anymore stir inside of him.

 _Stop_ , he wants to order, but the thoughts are flooding.

 _Stop_ , he wants to command. It makes sense that Ushiwaka got used to calling Iwaizumi by his first name, it’s common in the United States. Even Oikawa has gotten used to skipping name formalities.

All these years and you can’t drop that dumb nickname, Iwaizumi had said at dinner.

Too preoccupied with his new nicknames, clearly.

“What are you doing?”

Oikawa startles himself so violently he drops Iwaizumi’s phone onto the -thankfully- carpeted floor. 

“AH! IWAC- ( _it’s not special anymore_ , that pang again) Iwaizumi! You scared me! Your phone kept drowning in messages I just checked to make sure it wasn’t an emergency you know, like the whole Olympic team going missing or something.”

Iwaizumi looks temporarily puzzled, looking away from Oikawa to quickly collect his phone and unlocking the screen to look at the messages himself. He laughs good naturedly.

“Everything is always an emergency with them. Anyway, what do you want to do now?”

_Wonder when we started drifting apart. Are we drifting apart? Do you prefer their banter and their nicknames and their company? Has it been that long?_

_Am I too late?_

“-Kawa? Tooru?”

Oikawa blinks himself out of the self-created torment, finding himself face to face with a frowning Iwaizumi.

“How many hours have you been up now? Not tired my ass. Get yourself to bed. I don’t wanna hear conspiracy theories that I somehow sabotaged Argentina by not letting their setter get proper rest.”

“I said I’m not tired, Iwaizumi.” Oikawa responds, trying to keep his tone light but failing.

Iwaizumi’s frown deepens, “Listen, I’m happy to see you too but sleep is important. You’ve had a long flight—”

“Right, fine, everyone must be missing their Iwa-Iwa.”  
  


_Dammit._

Petty. Prideful. Silly Tooru.  
  
Iwaizumi pauses, clearly taken aback.

“What’s this about?”

They’re not in highschool anymore. Oikawa is not the same bratty kid who got on a plane and flew half across the globe to desperately chase a dream. Iwaizumi is not the same impulsively violent kid that left Japan to pursue a career centered on healing and helping others.

They’re not the same. Too much time has passed. But there are certain feelings that, Oikawa regrettably and shamefully admits, have not changed but one sidedly grown.

“Forget it, you’re right. I should sleep. Goodnight, Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa quickly stands, hoping to make a quick exit back to his room.

Iwaizumi reaches out for his elbow and holds him back.

“What the hell, Oikawa?”

Oikawa’s bravado deflates the instance he feels Iwaizumi’s warm, soft hand wrapped around his arm. He should’ve kept quiet. He should’ve left sooner. 

_Don’t ruin it, Tooru._

“It’s nothing, Iwaizumi—”

He feels the grip tighten, not to hurt him but to signal unease from Iwaizumi’s end.

“Why are you doing that?”

Oikawa laughs nervously, “Doing what? I have no idea—”

“You’re calling me Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa blinks, “Isn’t that your name? Is there something I don’t know, did you change your identity while I was aw—”

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi’s tone is soft yet firm. 

It breaks Oikawa’s heart.

_Don’t ruin it, Tooru._

“I. Well. You said you don’t like this stupid nickname! I’m just doing as you wanted. I get it, you have all these new nicknames—”

A younger Iwaizumi would’ve scoffed and called him names. A younger Iwaizumi would’ve punched his arm and told him to get over it and stop being childish.

They’re not the same people anymore.

Something shifts in Iwaizumi’s face. Like gears finally falling into place and allowing him to have some sort of clarity he has been missing before.

It terrifies Oikawa’s whole being. He suddenly feels exposed.

Suddenly Iwaizumi is much closer than before, engulfing Oikawa in two well-defined, well-toned, well-everything arms.

No insults. No banter. Iwaizumi just hugs him. Oikawa swallows back too much of something he’s not ready to name, in case he’s dreaming.

“You’re so dumb, Oikawa.”

“Mean, Iwachan.” The words come out from the very depths of Oikawa’s soul. They’re small and terrified and walking on unknown territory.

Iwaizumi smiles, still holding him close.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

_Don’t ruin it, Tooru._

“Not right now. I’d very much like to kiss you first, Iwachan.”

 _Well_.

Oikawa is about to follow up that ridiculously honest statement with some dumb joke when suddenly Iwaizumi’s hand is on his cheek.

“That’s fine too, Sillykawa.”

_You didn’t ruin it, Tooru._

—————

Oikawa’s room is quiet and peaceful.

The bed is warm, the sheets are soft. It’s far too early in the morning judging by the faint strip of light entering through the curtains, but it’s quiet and it’s peaceful.

Oikawa feels for the phantom warmth next to him and smiles. He can hear Iwaizumi humming from the shower, getting ready for the day.

He hears two _dings_ go off seconds after the other. One from his phone, one from Iwaizumi’s.

Grinning to himself because he’s not dreaming — he’s not imagining this (“Stay” he said last night. “Of course” was the response) Oikawa turns on his side to grab his phone from the night table.

It’s a message from Matsukawa.

**Mattsun** :

Which one do you prefer? I’ll give you a friend discount.  
  


The message is followed by an image of two coffins. 

Oikawa blinks, one hundred percent confused. He quickly texts back with “ _What the hell, Mattsun?? Are you cursing me or something?!_ ”  
  


 **Mattsun** :

I’m just getting a headstart for when Iwaizumi kills you.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, his fingers already typing out another confused inquiry when Matsukawa once again follows up with an image.

Oikawa stares, unamused. He knows what this is. He posted it last night. It’s a screenshot of his twitter account showing a smiling Oikawa kissing the cheek of a trying-to-look-grumpy-but-failing Iwaizumi with the caption “MY IWACHAN!”

He doesn’t understand why Mattsun woul— wait.

Oikawa does a double take, glancing at his username. Glancing at the number of tweets and likes the picture has gotten.

He feels blood drain from his face.

This wasn’t his private, secret account. This was his verified official setter for Argentina account.

His phone dings again— in the distance, he can hear Iwaizumi’s phone going crazy with notifications—

_-Makki has started a group chat with Mattsun, Iwachan, and Oikawawho-_

- _Group name has been changed to “RIP OIKAWA”-_

 **Makki** :

CONGRATS YOU TWO! When’s the funeral?

 **Mattsun** :

Do you have a preference for flowers, Oikawa? I’d really like to get started on this, I’m quite busy.

Oikawa is still too shell shocked to even respond. He hears the shower shutting off. Maybe if he’s quick, maybe if he tosses Iwaizumi’s phone out the window—

“WHAT THE HELL, OIKAWA?! WHY IS ‘IWACHAN’ TRENDING ON TWITTER?!”

Oikawa takes a deep breath, filled with every emotion he has pretended to hide, and laughs until his side hurts.

The bed is warm, the sheets are soft, Iwachan is his.

_You are home, Tooru._   
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Did I abuse the “Mattsun works with dead people” trope? I certainly did. Do I regret it? Absolutely not.
> 
> HOW BEAUTIFUL WAS THAT LAST CHAPTER THOUGH.
> 
> Oikawa nation, we are the true winners of the Olympics. Thank you, Furudate.


End file.
